“Hand!” she barked.
Reluctantly, he extended his right hand. She took a large rubber stamper and pressed down hard. He bit back an exclamation, but when he looked down, he saw it had barely left a mark. The stamper was bone dry.
“Come on, move along,” she said abruptly. “There’s a long queue forming behind you.” Jock did as he was told. He wasn’t going to stop at the refreshment table, but the blue-haired lady caught his eye.
“Victoria sponge?” she asked. “It’s homemade.”
“Yes please,” he said, trying to remember the last time he had eaten cake at the cinema.
She served him an outrageously large slice, together with a milky cup of tea.
“How much is that?” he asked.
“No charge, dear,” she said with a wink. “It’s nice to see a man eat! Enjoy the film!”
He thanked her and shuffled towards the main hall. The usher waved him through, oblivious to the lack of a stamp on his hand. He took a seat in the very front row. It was a bit close to the screen, but he couldn’t stand having people sit in front of him, blocking his view. He perched his cake on his knee while he drank his tea, then switched over. The lights went down and the audience grew quiet in anticipation, then the screen flickered and … nothing.
Eventually, a timid-looking old lady came up to the front.
“I’m afraid tonight’s screening has been cancelled due to technical difficulties,” she told them.
“Boo!” shouted someone at the back.
“Happens every time!” complained the man sitting directly behind him.
In that case, why on earth did they all still turn up?
The old lady cleared her throat. “If you’d like to form an orderly queue, you can collect your refund at the ticket desk.”
Jock followed the crowd out into the foyer. He couldn’t be bothered to queue to get his money back. He was also keen to avoid the inevitable wrangle that was bound to take place when he was unable to provide proof of purchase, due to the invisible stamp on his hand. No, it wasn’t worth the effort. It was a sunk cost, as his father would say. But it wasn’t as simple as just walking out; everyone was clamouring round the ticket desk. He wandered up the other way and found a side door. He pushed it open.
“What did you do that for?” demanded one of the villagers. “You’ve set off the frigging alarm!”
His cheeks burned fuchsia as he heard the commotion behind him.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know that was going to happen.”
“Now someone will have to come and deactivate it.”
“I said I’m sorry.”
He tripped out into an alley, lined with smelly dustbins. A cat prowled along the gutter, stalking its supper and loud, energetic music pulsated from the youth club opposite. A couple of teenagers looked up as he approached.
“Hey, can you buy us some cider? We’ll give you the money.”
He pretended he hadn’t heard them. He didn’t much care if they wanted to drink. He just didn’t want to be involved.
“Oi! Are you deaf?”
A moment later, a missile narrowly missed his back. He glanced round. The little bastards were lobbing cans at him.
“Hey, are you alright?”
She was like an angel, standing in the doorway with a cloud of blonde hair curled around her face.
“I’m fine,” he managed.
“Come on.” She took him by the arm. “I know a shortcut.”
The teenagers watched in disbelief as Sapphire led him away. He could hardly believe it himself. He glanced at her out of the side of his eye. She was wearing a thick, woolly scarf and bobble hat, which seemed a bit excessive for the time of year. But they made her look so warm and cosy.
“Not having the best day, are you?” she said, as she guided him up the steps to the high street
“No,” he agreed.
“I bet you’re wishing you never came here.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
Why was she even talking to him? he wondered. After the way things had gone earlier, he hadn’t expected to get a second chance.
“What are you really doing here?” she asked. “Angie told me you’re a famous writer.” Her eyes shone slightly as she said this, as though she thought he was someone special. He wouldn’t have picked her for the bookish type, but it seemed he was wrong. “Isn’t this an odd place to come to write a book?” she pressed.
“I wanted to try somewhere completely new,” he told her.
“Why?”
“I just … needed to get away.”
“You’re not going to write about me, are you?”
“Oh no,” he assured her. “It’s completely fictional.”
“Oh.” She looked a little disappointed.
“But you can have an advance copy, if you like. Then you can let me know what you think.”
“I’d love to.”
“So, you’re going to be the May Queen,” he ventured.
She shrugged. Perhaps she was fed up of talking about it and dealing with people’s questions. Or maybe she was nervous, though it was hard to imagine Sapphire being nervous about anything.
“So tell me, where can I get a cup of coffee around here?” he asked, glancing around the silent street. “Neil doesn’t keep any at the Dragon. He says it’s vile stuff.”
“You’d have to go to McDonald’s,” she said. “Unless …”
He looked at her expectantly.
“I could make you one?” she offered.
“I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”
“It’s no trouble. I was going to have one myself.”
“Thanks. That would be nice.”
With a tingle of excitement, he followed her into the shop, but instead of going behind the counter, she walked towards the stairs that led up to the flat above.
“Watch out, the ceiling’s a bit low,” she warned.
Unable to believe his luck, he followed her up the narrow staircase.
3
The hum of the bees drove her crazy. All night they flew; in and out of her dreams, in and out of her head. Sapphire woke up swatting them away with her hands. But when she opened her eyes, she saw that there wasn’t a single bee in the room. She sat up and her eye fell on the May Queen dress, which hung from a hook on her bedroom door, still cocooned in its wrapping. She felt a strange tingle in her tummy. Today was the day.
She pulled on her dressing gown and walked through to the kitchen. The evidence of last night was everywhere: coffee cup rings on her best table, cushions strewn about, an open packet of crisps allowed to spill all over the carpet. She picked up a dustpan and brush and started to sweep up the crumbs, when something stopped her. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ said a strange voice inside her head. ‘Not today.’
It wasn’t raining, which was unusual for May Day. Everyone who came into the tea shop that morning commented on it.
“Shh! We mustn’t talk about it!” Angie warned, as if a mere mention of the weather was enough to bring on a storm.
Sapphire busied herself at the counter. She hadn’t planned on working, but the prospect of sitting alone in the flat appealed less now than it had last night. She needed to keep her hands busy. She needed something to push out all the unwelcome thoughts zipping through her mind. She did not see Simon so much as feel his large shadow loom over her as he approached the counter.
“Camomile tea and a bran muffin please,” he said, needlessly. He came in about the same time every day and always ordered the exact same thing. He held out his reusable flask for her to fill.
Her eyes flitted over his high-visibility cycling gear. “Where are you off to?” she asked.
“I’m going up into the mountains to fish,” he said, patting his huge backpack. “Got everything I need in here: cooker, kettle, even a tent.”
“Are you sure you’ll be alright on your own?” Angie fretted.
Simon smiled. “Well, you’re welcome to come with me.
”
“I have to work,” Angie told him. “Plus, I hate insects. You know I do.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing out on,” he said, his eyes shining slightly. “There’s nothing quite like a night under the stars. On a clear night, you can see the glow of the Andromeda Galaxy. It’s really quite remarkable.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it,” Angie said. “I need my home comforts.”
“I still say you should try it someday. You might find you like it.” He picked up his cup and wrapped his muffin in a napkin. “Well, I’d better get going. Thanks for the tea.”
Sapphire looked away as he leaned over the counter to give Angie a long, lingering kiss.
“I’ll miss you!” she heard her whisper. She waved wildly, as if he were a soldier going off to war.
“Have a safe trip!” Sapphire called after him.
“And you have a great May Day,” he said. “I hope the weather holds off.”
Angie bit her lip as he said this and for a moment Sapphire thought she was going to cross herself, but instead she picked up a piece of chalk and began scrawling the day’s specials on the board.
“I’d like a pot of Earl Grey and an almond croissant please,” said a man in a green raincoat, setting his rucksack down on the counter. Sapphire ignored him and tried to concentrate on writing a to-do list for Angie.
He raised his voice. “Hey! I’m talking to you!”
Still, she refused to look at him. Angie ignored him, too. Eventually, he would get bored and go away.
“You know, you really should go and get ready,” Angie said. “Morgan and I can manage.”
“Where is Morgan?” she asked.
“She’ll be here, don’t you worry,” Angie told her. “She’s probably overslept. You know what she’s like.”
Sapphire nodded.
“Though I did think it was a bit strange that they didn’t choose her to be one of your attendants,” Angie added, in a low voice. “I mean, I’m really pleased for Bronwyn of course, but don’t you think Morgan would have been the more obvious choice?”
“Not really,” Sapphire said. “Bronwyn is smiley and enthusiastic, whilst Morgan has her own permanent rain cloud. I know who I’d choose.”
Angie smiled. “You’re right, of course you’re right, Sapphire. And I’m sure Bronwyn will do a great job.”
“Heard you singing in the shower this morning. Beautiful falsetto!” Dylan called out, as Jock walked through the bar on his way out of the Dragon.
Neil the landlord smirked from behind his tea towel, but Jock didn’t care. He felt like doing cartwheels. He skipped across the road and burst into the tea shop, almost colliding with a homeless woman.
“Sorry,” he muttered, trying not to screw up his nose in revulsion. He was surprised to find such a person so deep into the countryside, especially in a place as elegant as Sapphire’s tea shop. Still, he didn’t wonder about it for very long. He wanted to see Sapphire.
He glanced around, but the place was almost empty. He walked up to the counter and tried to see through the rainbow-coloured tassels that separated the kitchen from the shop, but the only person he could see was Angie, humming to herself as she worked.
“Can I help you?” she asked, stepping out of the kitchen. She must have eyes in the back of her head, he thought.
“Is Sapphire here?” he asked.
She gave him a knowing smile. Perhaps Sapphire had told her about last night, or perhaps she was just used to men asking after her. He didn’t like that thought at all.
“No, I’m afraid she isn’t. She’s getting ready for the May Fair.”
“Is that today?” he asked. Sapphire hadn’t mentioned it as they had snuggled together on her sofa.
“Didn’t you notice the bunting outside?”
“No.”
“I’m amazed you haven’t been roped into helping! There’s an army of old ladies out there, organising everyone.”
“I seem to have got away with it.”
“Well watch out or they’ll have you blowing up balloons and weighing marrows.”
This was his cue to smile, but he didn’t feel like it. “When’s the parade?” he asked.
“Noon.”
He glanced at his phone. Two whole hours till he got to see Sapphire again. He didn’t know how he would stand it.
He walked around the village, taking shots of the transformation taking place. A maypole had been erected in the square, and he watched as a group of teenagers grabbed the ribbons and skipped about. Their fun didn’t last long, as they were soon swatted away by the Fleckford Wives, dressed in their best twinsets and tweed. Those old ladies seemed to be everywhere, marching around with clipboards and arranging flowers and oversized fruits and vegetables onto competition tables. He suspected the old men had taken refuge in their sheds, scared away like frightened snails.
By noon, the village was packed. Jock was curious to see what happened. He had never been to a May Day parade before. Not many villages had them these days. They were considered a bit of an anachronism by some and downright inappropriate by others. It had been hotly debated whether they should be allowed to continue at all, but there were many who had grown up with them and refused to let negative connotations blight the festivities.
Hundreds of people lined the route to the castle, waving union flags and Welsh dragons. Little girls clutched May Dolls fashioned out of wicker, and Morris dancers jingled as they walked. Angie stood in the doorway of the tea shop, her arms crossed tightly across her body.
“I’ve never seen so many people in the village,” she said, staring at the sea of tourists as if they were an invading army.
“What happens at these things, anyway?” Jock asked.
“It’s a bit like a cross between a carnival, a village fete and a harvest festival,” Angie said. “But instead of a Carnival Queen, we have the May Queen. After the procession, there will be competition stalls up at the castle. Sapphire will have to judge the best fruit and veg.”
“Sounds riveting!” Jock smirked.
“Sh! Here comes the parade,” she said, as the drumming began.
The majorettes marched in front, looking terribly solemn in their sparkling, white costumes. They twirled their batons with more enthusiasm than skill, but the crowd cheered them on as though they were Olympic athletes, and the little girls glowed with pride.
Behind them came two children, carrying the weirdest doll he had ever seen. It was green from head to toe, with leaves coming out of its mouth.
“What the hell is that?” he whispered.
“That’s the Green Man,” said Angie.
“Why’s he got leaves coming out of his mouth?”
“He always has leaves coming out of somewhere.”
“Why?”
“I think it’s supposed to be a symbol of rebirth.”
He shuddered. “Kind of creepy, isn’t it?”
“Shh! They’ll hear you!”
Just then, the May Queen’s float came into view and the crowd roared. Sapphire sat upon a throne decorated with fruits and flowers, looking like the world belonged to her. In her white dress and golden tiara, she was even more breath-taking than she had been the day before. She sat in between two attendants: one slight and attractive with reddish gold hair, the other big and broad as a man, with ears that stuck out at odd angles. The big girl looked completely out of place next to the two beauties, but the crowd seemed to love her.
Sapphire waved majestically. Her manner was more reserved than her attendants’, who waved their arms like crazy and called out greetings to their friends. The big girl put her fingers to her lips and delivered an ear-splitting whistle. The crowd went wild. Looking around, he noticed several people with large ears and broad shoulders. Perhaps she was everyone’s favourite cousin.
He moved forward a little, trying to find the best position to photograph Sapphire. He didn’t think she would be able to see him in the crowd, but she sought him out
with her eyes and smiled a secret smile that was just for him. He felt his stomach flutter and he almost dropped his camera. He must be the luckiest man alive.
Sapphire felt a chill as the float drifted up Daffodil Lane. The parade was like a huge snowball, gathering people in its wake.
“Isn’t this amazing?” said Bronwyn. Her ears flapped with excitement and she giggled like a schoolgirl.
Sapphire forced herself to smile.
“Feeling a bit nervous?” her other attendant asked.
She brushed off the enquiry with a swift shake of her head and continued to look out at the crowd. After a while, the other two stopped trying to draw her into their conversation and spoke across her instead. Sapphire barely noticed. She had waited a long time for this day and now that it was here, she wasn’t going to miss a single detail. She looked around, taking it all in. So this was how it felt. The crowd. The excitement. She felt a shadow fall over the float and she looked up at the sky, willing it not to rain for just a little longer. Then she looked back down the valley. From her unique vantage point, she could see all around, from the lambs in the field to the train waiting at the station, and the glittery, blue water of the canal beyond. She could see everyone and everyone could see her. But there it was. The face in the crowd. The one in a million face that made her suck in her breath and hold it tight. She leapt down from the float, ignoring the helping hands held out to her by those nearest.
“Sapphire?” the call echoed through the throng.
Her bouquet fluttered to the ground as she pushed her way through the crowd.
4
Jock watched Sapphire run, like a bride fleeing her wedding. He hadn’t seen that expression on anyone before. She had looked … spooked. He hesitated only for a moment, before he took off in pursuit. It wasn’t like him to be so impulsive, but there was something about Sapphire that made him feel reckless.
People turned to stare, but she was incredibly fast. He could still make out her blonde head but the gap between them was widening. She seemed frantic, pushing and shoving, not caring who got in her way. Through the cobbled streets, he chased her, his camera swinging perilously from the strap round his neck. Past the square she went and over the railway bridge. The crowd had thinned out now and there were fewer people to block the way. But he couldn’t tell which way she had gone. She could have followed the canal path through the tunnel, or else gone up towards the Black Mountains. There was no way of knowing.
The Perfect Girl Page 2